


The Charcoal Burners

by trepkos



Category: Arthur of the Britons
Genre: Angst, Bigotry, Escape, Humiliation, M/M, Slash, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-13 00:00:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trepkos/pseuds/trepkos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kai falls foul of some religious zealots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Charcoal Burners

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Ideserveyou for beta.

Kai feels a chill. He’s starting to regret crossing into Saxon territory for the sake of a short-cut. His horse, sensing his disquiet, trembles beneath him, jinking at the fall of every leaf. The wind whistles through the trees, rattling the bare branches; a magpie cackles a warning. The sooner they get out of these unfamiliar woods, the better.

He urges his horse to a gallop. For a while, her long legs eat up the miles at a steady pace; Kai starts to relax, and his horse with him. Then a gust of wind blows a hank of cloth across their path. The horse shies off the track, stumbles, drops to her knees, and pitches Kai over her neck. He only just has time to curse, before everything goes black.

~~

Cold water splashes in his face. Kai splutters, and opens his eyes, to find three Saxons standing around him. Each of them wears a wooden cross, upon a leather thong about his neck.

One, a giant of a man, and – by the arrogance of his bearing – their leader, leans over him. “What is your name, Brother?”

A small mercy – they don’t know who he is. “My name’s Brett. And yours?”

“Attor,” the leader says; “Earm,” says another; “Fyren,” says the third.

“What happened to you, Friend?” Earm says, scratching his ample belly. 

Friend? They’ve just met, but Kai dislikes this man already. “I must have been knocked out when I came off my horse.”

Fyren cocks his head. “So that is your horse?” 

“Yes, I thought only the damned Celts rode horses,” Attor says, frowning. 

Kai shrugs. “It gives those bastards such an advantage over us, I decided to learn – try to even the odds. It’s easy when you know how.” He rubs the back of his head, and flashes them his most disarming grin. “Usually, it’s easy.”

The men grunt. Earm collects the errant cloak – the one that scared Kai’s horse – from where hangs, snagged on a bush, while Fyren, a wiry fellow, evidently bolder than the rest, catches the mare. Kai feels a stab of irritation, but he doesn’t dare object.

Earm offers him a damp palm, and – reluctantly – Kai lets Earm give him a hand up. He feels a bit unsteady on his feet, but nothing seems to be broken.

“So, where are you from, Brett?”

“Er … from Ulrich’s people.”

Fyren’s eyes narrow. “You’re a long way from home.” 

Kai doesn’t need reminding.

“Yes, why don’t you come back to our camp, and rest a while?” Earms spreads his hands expansively. “Take some sustenance with us, Friend.”

Kai shakes his head. “That’s most kind, but I’ve tarried too long already. I really must be on my way.”

“No, we won’t hear of it!” Attor slaps Kai on the back, leaving his meaty hand there, and applying slight pressure. 

Each of the Saxons standing between him and his horse – from whose saddle his own axe dangles idly – carries both a long knife, and an axe. And they already look as if they don’t quite trust him. He can’t refuse their hospitality. 

“My thanks.” 

They hang back, forcing him to walk ahead of them.

“It’s that way – through the trees,” Attor says. “Just follow the smoke. We make charcoal.” 

That’s why these men have so many sharp edges about them: for cutting wood, that’s all! Kai starts to breathe more easily. It’s alright – he can pull this off. He’ll sit with them a while, eat and drink with them, then take his leave.

But he can hear them talking in low voices behind his back. He feels their eyes boring into his spine, and as he listens, Kai picks out Arthur’s name. He moves to draw his knife, but something hits him on the head, and down he goes.

~~

Kai wakes as someone slaps his face, so hard it almost breaks his jaw. He would return the blow, but finds his hands tied to a post. 

Fyren stands over him, his narrow features eager to deal out more pain. Attor waves him away, and Fyren backs off, his expression promising Kai more of the same treatment, should the chance arise. 

“You’re awake at last.” The huge Saxon grins, and points. “I know you. You are Kai.” 

Kai snorts. No point denying it. “Yes, I am Kai –”

“– the Saxon who rides Arthur,” Attor finishes for him.

Kai blinks, but says nothing. Perhaps he misheard.

“– the Saxon who fucks with Arthur.” Earm jerks his hips.

Attor leans towards him, and the cross he wears swings in Kai’s face. “I’ll bet he fucks him like a Turk’s concubine.”

A black fog of anger billows in Kai’s brain. He snarls, and jerks at his bonds, but Attor sways back out of range.

“Yes … though they write no songs of your perversions, yet we hear of them all the same.” Fyren’s fists clench, as if it were a personal affront. “The messenger of the Lord tells us where the rank corruption lies.”

“What lord is this?” Kai asks. “Cerdig?”

“Cerdig! That backslider?” Attor spits on the ground. “ No. We take our orders from our abbot. He calls your kind an abomination – men lying with other men …” Now, he spits in Kai’s face. “Men whom even the Romans called degenerate.”

“What do you care for the Romans?” Kai mutters, spittle trickling down his cheek.

“Only that they were right – and they spread the truth of God to us.” Earm fondles his cross.

“And God says men like you are scum, who will be cast out, and thrown down into hell.” Fyren stabs a finger towards the ground.

“Then your god is not mine.” Kai lifts his chin. “Let him direct _your_ lives, and leave us to live by our own laws.” 

“Well, I would …” Attor nods. “But _you_ are one of _us_.” 

Kai feels his jaw clench. “I am not one of you. Neither your religion, nor your tribe.” 

“Yes, you are.” Attor squats down beside him, takes him by the chin, and wrenches his head up. “You were born a Saxon. And it sticks in my craw to see a Saxon warrior – and you are a great warrior, the whole world knows it – corrupted, and despoiled, and made a Celt’s catamite.” He looses his hold. “It makes me sick to my stomach.”

“What the Saxons do to this land makes _me_ sick to my stomach.”

Attor folds his arms. “So you don’t deny whoring yourself to that filthy Celt?”

“He is cleaner than any of you,” Kai says, through gritted teeth. “Neither does he stink of sheep, because he does not lie with them, as you do.”

Fyren grunts, and raises a fist. Attor nods, and Fyren deals Kai another blow to the face, harder than the first. 

Tasting blood, Kai wishes he could learn to hold his tongue. But they will most likely kill him, whatever he says, or does not say.

“It’s true then.” Earm folds his arms, echoing his leader’s posture. “But then, I suppose anyone would prefer you, to those ill-favoured Celtic witches.” He licks his lips. “I’m not surprised Arthur chose you to take his prick.”

With his feet bound together, Kai can’t even kick out, so he looks levelly back at Earm. “Ye...es, I take Arthur’s prick – and gladly, too.”

All three Saxons look so disgusted, Kai can’t help himself. “I take his prick, or he takes mine, if that’s what he desires. And since you seem so interested, I enjoy every minute of it, whichever way we splice it.” 

“Is that so?” Attor nods. “You wouldn’t enjoy it so much without these, I’ll wager.” He thrusts a crude hand between Kai’s thighs, and grasps his balls.

Kai swallows a gasp of pain, and stays quite still, while Attor mauls him. 

“Perhaps Arthur will like him even better without them.” Earm leans over, and runs a sweaty palm down the side of Kai’s face. “Let’s take that prick that Arthur likes so much as well. Send Kai back as a pretty Saxon wench.”

It’s like ice water down Kai’s back. He’s been here before – bound and helpless in the hands of the enemy – and there aren’t many threats he hasn’t heard: but _this_ ... 

“Well, as luck would have it, the abbot is visiting us tomorrow.” Attor’s face lights up. “This is the chance we’ve been waiting for – to prove our faith by an act of sacrifice. Brother Paul can give these proceedings his blessing. Our entry into heaven will be assured, when we have purified this wretched Sodomite.”

Fyren rubs his hands together. “We should give him a good scourging first.”

Earm nods sagely. “Like our Lord suffered.” 

More such nonsense follows, but Kai has got himself into enough trouble already, so he says no more, and in the end, they grow bored, and go about their business.

They offer him neither food nor water; Kai would have refused in any case. He desperately needs to take a piss, and – if these madmen have their way – the next might be his last.

Kai tries to calm himself. The abbot won’t arrive until tomorrow, so he has all night. No prison yet has held him. But two sets of ropes bind him; these lunatics have tied him good and tight, and he would not be the first to die here, as the dark stains upon the ground bear witness. 

So, with his fingertips, Kai starts working away at the soil around the base of the post. He cherishes a fragile hope that if he loosens the earth enough, he might work the post loose, and slip the rope beneath it. He grubs away at the hard ground, until his fingers bleed.

When night falls, the charcoal burners share – though not with him – a rowdy drunken meal. Then the whole group, of seven men in all, packs into the hut to make some sport with him.

In the flickering light of their flaming torches, Kai can barely see the faces of the men crowding around him, poking and prodding him, pinching his cheeks, and chucking him under the chin, and calling him by women’s names.

Kai’s face reddens but he stays still and silent, hoping these feral beasts won’t look behind him, and see his excavations. But they are enjoying their game too much to check his bonds.

At last, Attor bellows, “Bring forth the holy implements, for the purification of this sinner, to save him from the fires of hell.”

Each man produces a weapon, or a metal tool he thinks he might employ, to help deprive Kai of his manhood. There are blades that hack and cut; fire-irons, claw-ended tongs; a fearsome-looking rake.

If hell exists, then Kai is already knocking at the gates.

“We’ll need something good and hot to stop the bleeding.” Fyren brandishes a flat implement in his face. “We don’t want to kill him, after all.”

Someone shouts out, “What should we take first – his balls, or his prick?” 

Kai flinches, his knees jerking towards his chest.

Fyren cackles; Kai hates himself for giving him the satisfaction.

The man wielding the tongs – Kai doesn’t know his name – says, “Cut his cock off first, then he’ll have something to bite down on, while we crush his balls.” He leers drunkenly, and works the tongs a hair’s breadth from Kai’s groin.

Kai hangs his head, as a shameful warmth spreads around his thighs. 

“Look, now you’ve scared the poor fellow,” Attor says reproachfully. “You made the mighty Kai piss himself! Perhaps they’ll write a song about _that_ , eh?” 

Kai has nothing left inside. His throat feels tight; tears burn his eyes behind their lids. He wishes all these beasts would go away.

“Perhaps we should purify his stinking hole,” Earm suggests. “Heat a rod until it’s white hot, then stick it up –”

“No,” Attor says, swaying slightly. “If we penetrate him, then we are no better than he is, or that Celt he serves.”

Kai feels a bubble of hysteria rising in his chest.

Earm puts up a hand. “But –” 

“No!” Attor wags a censorious finger. “We’ll leave him now, to think upon his sins, and on what awaits him. Then he’ll be fresh, and ready to be shriven in the morning.”

“He isn’t getting any fresher.” Fyren waves a hand in front of his face. “Let’s get out of here – he stinks.”

They straggle out, leaving Kai alone again, at last. They’ve left their tools where he can see them, glinting in the light of their dying fire. No warmth reaches him, and soon he starts to shiver.

Will they really go through with it? They live out here in the forest, with no women, and little to occupy their minds, except what this abbot of theirs tells them; and they have a fanatic’s gleam in their eyes.

He knows they will do it. They will cut him, and they will burn him, and if he survives, they might even let him loose, to go back to Arthur in his ruined state. 

Better to lie down, and die alone, in the forest, than face the shame of going home, and letting anyone see what they have done to him. Better if Arthur never finds out. Arthur would blame himself, and his last memory of Kai would be of some half-man …

Kai sniffs; he blinks back tears. This is foolish. He is going to get out of here. He has to escape, if only to warn Arthur of this threat.

So he goes back to his task. His shoulders ache. The hard ground rubs his nails and fingertips to tatters, but the hole he has dug still only takes his fingers to two knuckles’ depth; the post must be buried at least four times as deep. He hears small whimpers of fear and exhaustion coming from his throat.

Then he cuts his finger on something sharp – a rock, or piece of metal, buried at the base of the post. His heart leaps. Something sharp enough to cut flesh, will cut rope.

He contorts his body, trying to bring the ropes against the sharp edge, but he can’t get the right angle. Feverishly, he scratches and scrabbles at the earth behind the thing, until at last there is room for his hands in the hollow he has made. Then he grits his teeth, and sets to work.

~~

The fat lech, Earm, neglectful of his duty, snores on watch outside the hut.

Not for long. Kai brains him with a fire iron, and now the camp is silent. 

Kai’s horse, tied to a post nearby, raises her head and looks at him expectantly, but makes no sound. 

He could ride away; leave them to greet their holy man without their prize exhibit. But they know his name, and where to find him; worse, they know where to find Arthur, and – in his defiance – Kai confirmed what they already thought they knew. If these charcoal burners, or any others of their persuasion, were to take Arthur alive … 

Finding his own short sword on Earm’s dead body, Kai goes quietly about the camp, and cuts the throat of every man he finds.

When he is sure not one is left alive, he washes with water from the trough, and strips Fyren’s body of its breeches, to replace his own soiled garment. Then he leans down towards the half-naked corpse. 

“I’m fresher than you are now, _Friend_.” 

A fierce joy in his subjugation of these brutes gives his tired limbs the strength to drag all the bodies – even Attor’s huge frame – into the hut nearest the woodpile. Then he relieves himself over Attor’s corpse.

“Perhaps they’ll write a song about how I slit your throat, and then pissed in your face.”

Attor stares sightlessly back at him.

“Come to think of it – I may do it myself.” Kai gives the body a hefty kick.

He finds, and eats, some meat and bread, drinks down a jug of water, then sets fire to the hut, mounts his horse, and rides for home.

~~

Soon after first light, as Kai leaves the cover of the wood, he sees someone – a man in religious garb – coming along the track towards him. 

“Brother!” the man hails him.

This must be the wretched charcoal burners’ still more wretched abbot.

“I am no brother of yours,” Kai mutters. “No, nor friend either.” 

Perhaps he should rid the land of this turbulent priest. His hand goes to his axe. 

But then, a small party of Saxons appears on the skyline. Even at this distance, Kai recognises the leader of the group: Cerdig’s lieutenant, Hengist, who was giving him the evil eye the whole time he was held hostage in Cerdig’s camp. 

Kai wants no more Saxon entanglements today. He kicks his horse, and passes the priest at a gallop. Hearing no pursuers – not that they could have caught him – he looks back.

The Saxons have gathered around the abbot. No doubt Brother Paul will soon replace those members of his flock that Kai despatched, and give his new converts another reason to hate the Celts.

~~

Arthur’s face breaks into a smile of relief. “What kept you?”

Kai shakes his head. “Nothing. I stopped to admire the scenery – nothing more.”

Then Arthur remembers that the chieftain, with whom he sent Kai to do business, has a daughter ... But Kai’s back; that’s all that matters. With a grin, Arthur says: “That scenery didn’t happen to have long red hair, and green eyes, did it?”

“No, it did not.” 

Kai doesn’t laugh, nor even look at him, but sets about unsaddling his horse, then leads her to the trough to drink, then brings her some hay, then picks up a brush.

Arthur puts a hand on Kai’s arm.

Kai turns sharply. “What?”

“I could ask the same thing. Kai, what troubles you?”

Kai shakes his head, and sets the brush against his horse’s flank. Then he stops and rests his brow against her. 

“Come. Leave your horse.” Arthur gestures towards the Longhouse.

With obvious reluctance, Kai drops the brush, and follows him. But once inside the longhouse, Kai glances at Lenni, preparing food, and says softly, “Not here.”

“Have you forgotten? Lenni cannot repeat anything we say.”

“But she can hear. And she can see.” Kai grips Arthur’s wrist, and leads him to the sleeping area, slams the door shut with his foot, sets his back against it, and puts his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, pushing him to his knees.

This grim haste seems so unlike his Kai that Arthur doesn’t question, but complies, and when he looks up into Kai’s face, he sees a mask of misery.

Kai leans his head against the door, and closes his eyes, just waiting.

 

Arthur rubs his face against the front of Kai’s breeches. There’s no stone harder than Kai feels right now. But … this is not the garment Kai was wearing when he left. Something has happened. 

He looks again; Kai hides his face behind an up-thrown arm, showing a wrist that’s raw with rope-burns. That’s why he came home late. He’s been held prisoner.

Arthur frees Kai’s cock, and kisses and mouths the head, and Kai moans, like an animal in distress. When Arthur takes him in, he feels pain and fear throb through him, and it needs but little coaxing to bring Kai to his climax. Kai sobs as he comes. Arthur just holds him, kneading his buttocks till the last wave has passed.

“Now, will you tell me? Who held you prisoner, Kai – and why?”

Kai rubs the back of his hand across his face. “How did you know?”

Arthur stands, and takes both of Kai’s hands in his, turning them, so the dirtied, bloody fingers, and the reddened wrists, are plain to see.

Kai shakes his head, like a bear in a cage. “We must not do this again, Arthur. The risk is too great.”

“Do what, Kai? What is this risk?”

“Some priest is driving the Saxons mad. Religious fervour grips them. These men who took me – they were just charcoal burners, but they were so determined to find favour with their god –”

“Find favour? How? By capturing you?”

Kai drops his gaze. “Not just capturing, Arthur. They knew – about us. About this. They were going to … cut me.”

Arthur can see this is hard for Kai to speak of, but he has to know. “Cut you …? How?”

“Because we are together, you and I, they would have …” He swallows hard, and drops his head to Arthur’s shoulder. “Would have made a gelding of me.”

Arthur gasps. He feels a sympathetic throb in his own loins. It chills him to the soul that men could think of such a thing. 

“– and worse. They said they would unman me completely. Send me back to you with nothing.”

Arthur holds him, cupping him with one hand, rubbing his back with the other. “Kai, my poor Kai …” 

Kai clings to him for a moment.

When he pulls away, Arthur takes him by the shoulders. “Who were these fiends? Is this Cerdig’s doing?”

Kai shakes his head. “These were not military men, Arthur, and they had no respect for Cerdig. But if this obsession spreads, Cerdig still might use our bond to turn our allies against us. Perhaps even our own village. Everybody knows about us.” Kai swipes at the air. “Even our enemies know. And the things they said about you, Arthur, if you fell into their hands … I can’t bear to think of it.” Kai turns his back, and dashes a hand across his eyes. “You must take a wife.”

“A _wife?_ ” Arthur’s heart contracts. “Isn’t that a little extreme? Surely you don’t really want me to –” 

“You must take a wife, and put an end to these rumours.”

As they stare at each other – their lives crashing in ruins at their feet – they hear shouts outside.

“Saxons!” 

“The Saxons are here!” 

“Get Arthur!”

They snatch up their weapons, and make haste outside, to find a single Saxon warrior at the gate, under the watchful gaze of the village, and a flag of truce. A few sheepskin-clad fighting men stand farther off. 

Arthur nods slowly to the lone Saxon; the man takes a step through the gate, and raises a hand in greeting. 

“I am Hengist. I come from Cerdig. He bade me deal with a fanatical priest who has been plaguing our territories, and I have done so.”

Hengist touches the haft of his axe: its blade stained red with blood.

“My lord also bids me say to you, that religious zealots are a cause of chaos in this land, and that it is in no one’s interest to allow them to flourish. He hopes you will deal with any such nuisances on your side, in the same way.”

~~

Kai stares at Hengist; Hengist stares back at him. Then Hengist glances at Kai’s hand, resting on Arthur’s shoulder, and then back at Kai, and then at Arthur. Then he nods to each of them, and turns on his heel; he and his men depart.

“Cerdig has done us a favour.” Arthur smiles at Kai. “Because I have no desire to take a wife.”

Kai raises an eyebrow. “And neither, it seems, has Cerdig.”

~~

The excitement over, the villagers return to their tasks, but Arthur stands watching the Saxons until they are out of sight. 

Then he looks to Kai, who stands shivering, hugging himself, and staring at nothing. Now, he flinches, as if he has been struck. Now, a look of panic crosses his face; now, a wince of imagined or real pain, and finally a look of savage satisfaction.

Arthur puts a hand on his shoulder. “Come on – let’s get those injuries seen to.”

Kai follows him to Lenni’s hut without a word.

“Take care of him,” Arthur tells Lenni.

Kai needs rest and quiet, not the thousand questions Arthur has on the tip of his tongue. He puts a hand on Kai’s shoulder. “I won’t be far away.” 

Then Arthur leaves him there.

~~

Kai watches, still without a word, as Lenni cleans his injuries, shaking her head the while, in sympathy. Then she makes a gesture that Kai interprets as asking whether he is hurt anywhere else. When he shakes his head, she fetches pots containing salves and ointments, and starts spreading them on his wrists and fingers.

Kai chokes out a bitter laugh. He would have needed more than a salve if … His thighs clench. Better to be dead. He squeezes his eyes tight shut. What will it take to purge last night’s terror from his mind?

Lenni sees that his pain is more than physical. She makes him lie down on the bed, spreads a cool cloth over his forehead, then pours a mug of mead, and stirs something into it.

Kai knows what she is doing; he does not protest. A sleeping draught is welcome. But he does not want to sleep here, in a strange bed. He doesn’t know why Arthur has left him; can’t remember what he said before he left, or where he went – but his own bed might give some comfort. 

So Kai drains the mug, and hands it back. “Tell Arthur, I went to the Longhouse.”

As he heads over there, Llud comes towards him. “Kai! You’re back at last!”

Kai clasps his father’s hand as though it were a lifeline, and he, a drowning man. He looks urgently into Llud’s eyes. “They know about us, don’t they, Llud? Arthur and me?” 

Llud frowns. “Of course … everybody knows about you – and if they have not met you, in friendship, or in battle, they have heard the minstrels –”

“That’s not what I mean.” Kai glances nervously at the villagers, going about their business, and says in a low voice, “Do they know about … our bond … what we are to each other? What we do?”

Llud raises an eyebrow. “They know. Well, those with eyes in their heads. But I imagine they try not to think too hard about it.”

“But do they not hate us for it – resent us? Resent Arthur, for my sake?”

Llud laughs. “They resent Arthur for many things – for his arrogance, or for putting them on sentry duty at the dead of night in midwinter. For asking, and expecting of them, more than they think they are able to give. I don’t think you’d be at the top of their list!”

Kai tries to laugh; he wants to be convinced.

“As for what you do in your sleeping quarters – most of them are only too happy for you to confine your attentions to each other, and leave their sisters, and wives, and daughters, alone. And their mothers too!”

Kai snorts. “Their mothers?” He goes to punch Llud on the arm. “You’re the one who –”

Llud catches his hand and turns it over, looking at the rope-burns. “Kai, what happened?”

Brought down to earth again, Kai shakes his head. “Not now, Llud. I’m home, and in one piece. That’s all that matters.”

Llud nods, and lets him pass.

Starting to feel groggy, Kai makes it to their sleeping area, and all but falls upon the bed. He just has time to consider the potency of Lenni’s concoctions, before he falls asleep. 

~~

When Arthur returns, he’s glad to find Kai sleeping. He hadn’t meant to leave him for so long, but an armourer arrived, and had to be dealt with, then some villagers came to him with a dispute to settle. He doesn’t like to think that when Kai needed him, he wasn’t there.

He sits beside the bed for a while, to make sure Kai’s dreams are not troubled. But he looks so still, Arthur feels the need to put a hand in front of Kai’s mouth, to check that he’s still breathing. All seems well, so Arthur leaves him be.

When the evening meal is over, and Arthur comes to bed, Kai still sleeps on.

Arthur lies next to him, his chest against Kai’s back. He wraps an arm around Kai’s flank, and can’t help feeling for him – for that which Kai almost had so cruelly ripped from him.

Kai stirs, and whimpers softly, “No, please …”

Arthur snatches his hand away. “Kai, it’s me … Arthur.”

Kai wakes. He stays quite still for a moment, then rolls onto his back. His eyes light on Arthur; he closes them and breathes a sigh of relief. “Touch me. If it is truly you, and this is not a dream, I want to feel your hand on me. I thought never to feel it there again.”

Arthur cups him once more, very gently.

Kai gasps, “Please, Arthur.”

Arthur pushes down Kai’s breeches and takes him in hand, more firmly; Kai groans and thrusts.

Arthur nestles up to Kai. “I don’t want to hurt you,” 

Between thrusts of his cock into Arthur’s hand, Kai says, “They had not yet inflicted any damage upon me … beyond some rough handling – a few blows. They were to make a ceremony of it in the morning … with their abbot – the priest Hengist despatched.”

“They will be waiting a long time, then.”

Kai grunts, noncommittal.

“Where was this?” Arthur slips his other hand down between Kai’s thighs, and caresses his sac. “Where did they capture you?”

Kai lets his head roll back onto Arthur’s shoulder. “This method of questioning is … unfair.”

Arthur squeezes gently, and speeds up the movement of his hand.

“In the woods … where Cerdig’s … and Hecla’s … territories meet.”

“And how many of them were there?”

Kai freezes. “There _were_ seven,” he says cautiously. “Now, there are none.”

Arthur smiles his bitter satisfaction into Kai’s hair. “Then you have saved me a task.” He feels Kai relax in his arms. 

Then Kai rolls over and smiles back at him. “I freed myself … then cut their throats while they slept.” He nudges against Arthur, reminding him of his task. 

“Good.” Arthur takes him in hand again. “I’m glad you did.”

“I did right then?” Kai rolls his hips hopefully.

Arthur holds still for a moment, considering. “To kill them in cold blood, or leave them to do the same to others? Neither choice is good.”

A crease appears in Kai’s brow. “Perhaps I should have taken them on, in single combat.”

“Given the choice, no jackal leaves the pack to fight alone. They would have fallen upon you, and torn you to pieces.”

“So I did right.” All signs of worry disappear from Kai’s handsome face.

Arthur is glad to see it; still, he sighs. “Sometimes there’s no right thing to do – only a lesser wrong.” He strokes Kai’s cheek with his knuckles. “But right or wrong, you did what I’d have done, in your place.”

“Then I should be rewarded, shouldn’t I?” Kai’s tongue grazes his lower lip; his eyes shine very bright.

“You shall.” Arthur gets off the bed, and strips, feeling Kai’s hungry gaze upon him. He finds the stuff they use, straddles Kai’s thighs, and starts to prepare himself.

“No, let me.” Kai takes the bowl from him, and coats his middle and index finger.

Arthur sinks down. With Kai’s big hands splayed on his buttocks, owning him, it feels like coming home. 

“I had to kill them.” Kai’s voice purrs, low sensuous. “In my anger, I told them you take my prick.” He crooks his finger.

Arthur sucks in a breath. He feels his back arch like a bow. “You told the truth,” he gasps. “And I will do so again.”

“It had better be soon then.” Kai thrusts his hips upwards.

Arthur looks longingly at Kai’s erection, but for an instant he sees something else … the terrible wound with which Kai’s captors threatened him. He shuts his eyes. Then he feels Kai stroke his flank.

“Arthur, it’s alright.”

“Kai, may I –”

“Of course.”

Arthur moans and drops his head into Kai’s lap, nuzzling round his balls, and kissing them. He feels Kai running his fingers through his hair, shushing him. Then he takes Kai’s glorious prick into his mouth; it’s for the second time since Kai came home, but this time, he knows … he could have lost this … lost Kai.

He could worship here for ever – just his mouth, and Kai’s smooth hardness sliding against each other – but Kai gives a wrenching cry, and comes, and keeps coming, and Arthur eases him through it, swallowing down everything he has to give.

At last, Arthur crawls up the bed, his own wet tip leaving a trail up Kai’s body.

Kai licks his lips, and says casually, “I also told them that I’m glad to take your prick.”

Arthur has to grasp himself, or come right then.

Kai pulls Arthur’s head towards him, and kisses him, and Arthur moans into his mouth. Breathless, and about to lose control, Arthur says, “It’s not too soon?”

“They did not penetrate me, I swear. They thought it beneath them.”

Arthur’s mind fills with rage. “How dare they?”

Kai laughs. “Arthur! Their prurience spared my arse!”

“Yes … yes, of course.” Arthur shakes his head. Then he takes Kai’s face between his hands. “I was concerned that, after this, you might fear to stay with me. That it might be you, who wished to take a wife.”

Kai shakes his head. “That these fools are against us only makes me more certain that there is nothing wrong in what we do – no shame in it. And I intend to enjoy it at every opportunity.”

Arthur feels Kai’s hand snake down between them; Kai’s hand on his prick, greasing him. 

“Are you ready?” Kai says. 

There’s so much love in Arthur’s heart, he feels he might break open. “For you? I’m always ready.”

~~

**Author's Note:**

> First archived here: 31 October 2010.  
> Revised: 12 February 2014.


End file.
